back at Alex. “So, yes, I blame you, too.”
“Now, now, play nice,” Logan said, chuckling.
“Oh, we are,” Fiona assured him, her smile turning to treacle. “Wait until you see the happening tuxedo jacket I found for you to wear.”
Despite being a towering lumberjack of a man, Logan visibly blanched.
Hannah hooted, suddenly feeling miles better. “Are you certain you know what you’re getting yourself into?” she called down to Alex as Fiona all but dragged Hannah into her bedroom.
Alex grinned up at them. “Oh, I have a pretty fair idea. You should see what she’s making me wear tonight.”
Hannah realized the tears had stopped. And she was smiling. Laughing. The pain of the accident forgotten, the pain of . . . everything else, shoved aside for now. Home. And family. The cure for everything . Then she had another thought and turned back to Fiona. “Did you get something for Kerry to wear? Because . . . you didn’t tell her to bring something, did you? God only knows what kind of tribal getup she’ll have found. She’s probably haggling with customs right this second over some kind of fang-covered bikini top. Or worse, they’ve already done the full-body cavity search and she’s in some small holding room somewhere. You know how she is. Has anyone heard from her? Is she still due in on Saturday?”
Hannah closed the door behind herself and turned around to find Fiona standing in front of her, eyes swimming in tears. “Oh no! Oh my God. What happened to her, Fiona? Tell me right now. I’m an attorney. I know people, highly placed people. We’ll help her no matter what she’s done. We’ll—ooph!”
Whatever else she might have said was squeezed out of her lungs by her sister, who had wrapped her up in a tight hug and was holding on for dear life. And, accident trauma or not, Hannah didn’t even take a whole second before wrapping her arms around Fiona’s soft shoulders and hugging her right back.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Fiona said, sniffling again, her face pressed against the annual police picnic T-shirt Barbara had given Hannah yesterday so she could get out of her Willy Wonka death-by-chocolate shirt.
With the memory of her now-ruined silk blouse, Hannah’s thoughts went immediately to Calder Blue’s twinkling, whiskey-colored eyes as they’d shared that private joke grin. Bastard , she thought, but realized she was grinning again now, even as tears pricked at the ends of her eyelashes.
“I have, too.”
“It’s so good to have you home. To be home.” Finally, Fiona loosened up her death grip and noticed Hannah’s T-shirt. “Barbara?”
Hannah nodded. “My blouse—well, you saw it. Everything happened so fast, and I guess I was more out of it than I realized. I didn’t even think about my luggage until I got to Barb’s last night. It was still in the back of my car. I picked it up this morning from Sal and he loaned me his nephew’s car to use.”
“So, I saw,” Fiona said, waggling her eyebrows. “Sweet.”
Hannah didn’t want to think about cars. Driving in general still made her feel vaguely queasy. “I haven’t had a chance to change yet.”
“I’ll get Logan to bring your stuff in.” Fiona smiled, her eyes filled with love. “God, I feel like it’s been forever since we’ve talked. Really talked. So much has been going on and I feel awful for not keeping up with you and, well . . . I’ve missed leaning on you. I try not to be the needy little sister, I really do. You always have your act so together, and I keep thinking that will be me someday.” Fi’s smile turned sardonic. “And we both know that is so never going to happen. I mean, let’s face it. The big three-oh is officially in my rearview mirror. I’m single, no prospects, no kids, my life is upside down, my business—” She waved a hand. “See? There I go. But I do want to talk to you while you’re here . . . maybe bend your ear a little. Get some sisterly life